its been almost 8 years, since my father passed away. and my mother, now, wants to get a tattoo in remembrance of him, and her still born child.
she asked me for my thoughts, and if it was stupid. its her body, and her way to keep the memory of both alive. so since it was not my place to tell her wrong, i told her that it was fine. end of conversation, with a sad smile.

a month later though, i came home to visit, from life with the husband and work.

her ‘idea’ for the tattoo, was the last of many thoughts in my mind. and was the last she mentioned, on my visit.

smiling and little hesitant, she sat me down. and told me the news, that she’s done it. she got a tattoo for her late husband, and child.

frozen in thought i didnt speak much, and she didnt push, she just showed me…

on the left ouside of her leg, near her ankle was a large tattoo. of roses, on vines. they were five, pink bloomed and alive, which in her words represented, us children. only one, had two buds that were light blue for the oldest child whom has two boys.
farther up her leg, were two roses, identical with one another, except in size. one was larger than the other, and i guess one was for my father and one for my brother. in the middle was shaped similar to a heart, yet black but what made it beautiful was the velvet colored red, which surounded the black…

beautiful. was all my mind came up with. i asked why she chose that as her tattoo, tears silently ran down her cheeks and roughly she told me because `i love them, and my love that still surrounds them will never die’

choking on my own feelings i hugged her, and she held me tight. a small laugh escaped her lips, both of us knowing that tattoo was her stepping stone on finally letting go…